Always about me?

I innocently walk in the room and there he sits, on the straight back chair, no nonsense, strictly business look framing his whole being. I wasn't expecting him tonight, but I needed him so badly. My mood was dark. How did he know this? How does he know these things I need when I need them?

He crooks a finger at me as he reaches behind him with the other hand picking up the paddle, his dark, stormy look never leaving my being. I knew what I needed just as he knew, but I wasn't ready for it. Am I ever ready for it when I'm in this mood of mine? He's still crooking a finger at me as I stay frozen in my steps, our eyes frozen to one another. His body is rigid, his eyes dark but at the same time so full of love.

I break our stare and glance over to the table. I see the strap lying there as if it were daring me. Then, his voice, as if it were coming out of the walls. "Don't make it harder than it has to be, little one." His words didn't register. I was brought back to reality by the grasp of his rough, steel-like hand squeezing my arm, urging me to follow.

He sat back down in the chair, trying to tug me over his knee, much to my resistance. I needed this... how he knew this tonight... how he knows this ALL the time is just so beyond me. At the same time, knowing I need this so badly... I'm fighting every step of the way. The wondering thought of... if he ever "needs" this like I do.

He gently pats his thigh... "Come here little one, over my knee. I NEED this tonight."